


Held Between Us

by rawrkinjd



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Dom/sub, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrkinjd/pseuds/rawrkinjd
Summary: Geralt and Eskel help Lambert relinqish the last threads of control he clings to during their time together.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert
Comments: 50
Kudos: 206





	Held Between Us

It was just a blindfold. 

Lambert turned the silken material over in his bare hands. It poured through his fingers like water; cool and soft. At one point he put it up to his eyes and stared into the darkness. He tried to imagine not being able to see their hands, their eyes, their expressions, when they fucked him. Trusting them to— 

_Urgh._

_Bastards._ They always did shit like this. Never pushed. Never gave him something to kick and scream against. And, of course, he’d said yes in a flare of bravado; shit-eating smirk, one hand planted on his hip and blindfold held in the other. “Feelin’ shy, pretty boy?” He’d huffed at Geralt, who’d simply shrugged and walked off with that annoyingly confident swagger he flaunted all winter.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them. He’d trust both Eskel and Geralt with his life. They’d seen him at his lowest, been there through every Trial, every frigid fucking winter. But this was… it felt like more than they’d ever asked. Felt like he was giving up the last few tendrils of control he had in their dynamic. He just couldn’t put his finger on why when the cloth hung so innocuously across his palm.

He had the day to consider it, and if it was a ‘yes’ then he just turned up in Eskel’s room with the strip of fine silk in the evening. Not a mere scrap of linen they’d torn off an old shirt on a whim, but an expensive strip of material sourced from a tailor or seamstress. Eskel or Geralt—maybe both—had planned this. As they handed over their hard-earned orens, they’d thought of Lambert.

His heart twisted in his chest even as he curled the blindfold in his fingers again. He couldn’t let them down. Couldn’t bother them with this. Not after they’d thought about him—irritating, foul-mouthed, a thorn in their side—and prepared something special.

_It was just a blindfold._

Why was he so… scared?

No.

_Witchers don’t feel fear._

With an irate huff, Lambert placed the blindfold in his room and grabbed his swords. Two hours of training lay ahead, with a day full of chores before a well-earned scrub in the springs.

He ruminated over it for three days. _Three days._ At night he touched the cloth as it lay coiled on his bedside table, fingertips featherlight so that it barely rasped across the calluses. These were men he’d trust not just with his life, but his heart too. They held him between them like a precious thing, had slowly coaxed him out of his shell of thorns and brambles over the years until he felt a part of what they had; not just an add on, but a foundation. The touch of Eskel’s hands and the press of Geralt’s lips had rescued him from many a nightmare and allowed him to navigate to some semblance of stability.

_So why was this so… hard?_

The sun set on the third day. With the blindfold in hand, Lambert headed into Eskel’s room and found them as he always did. Eskel reclined in a big armchair, a large book open in his lap, while Geralt sprawled out on the bearskin rug before the fire, whittling something or other for his bard. Looked like a replica of Roach; Lambert’s keen eyes could pick out the grooves of her mane and the rounded bulge of her belly. 

“So, we doing this then?” Lambert strutted over, hiding the tremor in his voice with bluster.

Eskel looked up, amber eyes soft in the firelight, and closed his book slowly. He cast a glance at Geralt before he uncurled from his chair and approached with a slow, deliberate gait. “You’re anxious.”

“No,” Lambert snapped, upper lip quirked in the beginnings of a snarl. “Not my fault you’ve had a bout of low self-esteem, is it?” 

Eskel said nothing more and began to undress. He discarded his linen shirt, revealing plains of honey-toned skin striped with paler scars; Lambert’s eyes trailed over the curls of black hair on his chest and down the lines of his abdomen, following the path of his fingers to his waistband. The clatter of a belt buckle drew his attention to Geralt, who was slowly stripping away his trousers and boots. 

“Right,” Lambert cleared his throat and reached for the hem of his own shirt, only to have his hands smacked away by a now naked Eskel. Two large palms rubbed over his beard and then settled beneath his jaw, tilting his head up until those amber eyes were all Lambert could see. Gazing into them was like getting swallowed by a vat of honey; Eskel was all summer heat and sweet promise even in the dead of winter. 

“We’re going to blindfold you, you’re going to kneel, and then I’m going to fuck your mouth while Geralt holds your head still,” Eskel’s voice was nought but a low purr. It rumbled down the length of his muscular arms, through his palms, and settled heavily in the centre of Lambert’s chest, rendering him breathless with anticipation. That voice always soothed him before the tempest, and then again once the storm had settled. “I don’t want you to touch yourself at all. If you want it to end, you tap out on my thigh. Questions?”

Lambert swallowed, his mouth watering at the mere mention of Eskel’s prick. He longed to look down at it, _admire it,_ because he could smell the arousal - thick and rich - rolling off Eskel in waves. He was hard already, the virile, randy fuck. “Going to stare lovingly into my eyes all night, or we going to get started?”

“How’d you get it to stop?”

Lambert sighed. “I tap out.”

“Good,” then Eskel’s hands dropped from his face to the hem of his shirt and Geralt stepped to his back, big arms wrapped around the front so that he could tug open his belt. The fire chased away most of the cool air that wormed its way through the many cracks of Kaer Morhen’s walls, but Lambert still shivered when the final thread of clothing left his body. A flurry of goose pimples spread down his arms in the wake of Eskel’s finger, his featherlight caress barely brushing over the dark hair on Lambert’s arms. 

The strip of silk was still wound around his fist, clenched tightly against his palm, and Eskel eased Lambert’s fingers loose to pull it free while Geralt placed soft kisses along the slope of his shoulder. Geralt was always quiet during their encounters; he followed Eskel’s lead, as happy to move at his command as Lambert was to dissolve beneath it. Only when they reached the apex of the encounter, Geralt’s senses overwhelmed by the scents, tastes and sounds of their pleasure, did he growl and moan.

For now, Geralt was a comfortable anchor when Eskel’s eyes disappeared into darkness. Lambert sucked in a sharp breath; the silk settled over his face and his neck went rigid as Eskel tied a deft knot behind his head. Then he vanished. Panic welled in Lambert’s chest, his heart suddenly painfully frantic. Geralt was still there, his palms slipping down the curves of Lambert’s biceps, but Eskel was gone - he was gone - he -

Soft lips warped by familiar scars pressed to his mouth and his anxiety eased instantly. No. _Eskel would never leave him in the dark._ He was still there. Lambert could smell him and feel his proximity as one felt the rays of the sun despite its lofty perch in the sky; the warmth kissing his skin as his Eskel lingered nearby. And then he spoke, his voice somehow louder, more defined in the quiet of the room, now that Lambert couldn’t see its origin. “Doing well, little wolf.” The words whispered against Lambert’s lips before Eskel drew back again. There was no panic this time, just a flutter of anticipation. “On your knees.” 

Geralt’s hands pushed down on his shoulders at Eskel’s command and Lambert’s knees almost buckled. He growled, briefly resistant, and felt Eskel draw further away. _No, come back._ The snarl evaporated and Lambert sank down to the floor, knees finding the edge of the soft rug. The heat of his two lovers closed in around him, parted lips panting heavy breaths as he tried to orientate himself in an unseen world. He hadn’t realised how much he relied on his eyes; to measure Eskel’s reactions to his brattishness, to make sure he never pushed back hard enough to make Eskel stop out of concern or pull away in discontent. It was a way for Lambert to control the encounter, even if it was tenuous at best.

But now he... _couldn’t._ He just couldn’t take the gamble that resistance would mean loss. He had to follow each command or risk Eskel pulling away. Lambert’s control was gone. _Completely._ He sucked in a sharp breath as Geralt’s hands slipped beneath his jaw, and then moaned softly when the head of Eskel’s prick touched against his lower lip. His mouth lolled open, desperate for his first taste, but Geralt pulled him back; Lambert could feel the hard length of his cock press against his neck, nudging against the knot of the blindfold, and let out a stuttering sigh.

His own cock quivered; thick, standing tall, desperate for the slightest contact, but he kept his hands on the tops of his thighs. _Obedient._ A rush flooded down his spine as Geralt’s fingers and thumb pushed into his cheeks, and Lambert opened his mouth as wide as it’d go, tongue lolling over his lower lip. 

“I love him like this,” Eskel whispered, and the note of awe in his voice made Lambert shiver. He could imagine those beautiful eyes, dark with lust, admiring the desperate gape of Lambert’s mouth as it waited for his cock. Fuck, he wanted to see, but he couldn’t. _He had to wait._ Geralt hummed his agreement, and Eskel’s ankle brushed Lambert’s outer thigh as he took a step forward. A deep, longing moan reverberated from Lambert’s chest as the thick head of Eskel’s cock rested against his extended tongue. He could taste the tang of precome - Eskel’s excitement - feel the heat and the throb of arousal. 

Geralt’s hands remained firm as Eskel pushed forward, filling Lambert’s mouth until his lips stretched and the seal of his throat prevented him from going any further. He held himself there, as if testing Lambert’s obedience, and Lambert’s eyes fluttered beneath the blindfold as he breathed heavily through his nose. Two thumbs brushed over his eyebrow, smoothing the silk against his skin, probably Eskel’s, but Lambert couldn’t be sure. And then the huge prick in his mouth pulled out; he whined at the loss, tongue flicking desperately at the bottom of Eskel’s head as it pulled just free of his lower lip.

He didn’t have to wait long. Eskel thrust forward slowly at first, testing the waters, monitoring Lambert’s reaction no doubt. Geralt’s fingers tightened and Lambert could sense his excitement; the grip of one hand shifted into his hair and the follicles prickled as Geralt gave a light tug. Lambert moaned, muffled by his mouthful and a half, but Geralt got the message and pulled a little as Eskel began to fuck deeper into Lambert’s mouth.

_They were kissing._

Lambert could hear the brush of their lips, the slide of their tongues; Eskel must be touching Geralt, caressing his chest the way he liked, cupping his angular jaw. Lambert’s cock _ached._ They were holding him, _cradling him_ , with hands and cock, but he was their toy; a wet hole for Eskel’s prick while they stared into each other’s eyes. He was serving them, completely within their control, theirs to do with as they wished. Subservient, but cared for; not inferior, not lesser. No need to think, to act, to weigh, to judge, to adjust… just _be._

Eskel tested the boundaries of his throat and Lambert swallowed eagerly. Geralt’s hand moved from his jaw to his neck, fingers pressing to feel the bulge of Eskel’s cock plunge deep and take ownership. “Doing so well, little wolf,” Eskel husked, velvet voice crackling with need. “Feels so good, using your mouth like this.”

Lambert whined again, his own hips bucking, desperate, leaking cock seeking friction in the gods-damned air as if it could. Every time Geralt pulled, every time Eskel bottomed out, the weight of his heavy balls against Lambert’s chin, the fire in his belly flared. But his mind eased into a hazy half-awareness under Eskel’s praise. The centrepoint of his focus the prick in his mouth - weight, texture, taste, delicious fucking burn of it in his throat - and the swelling pressure in the pit of his stomach. Everything else faded. His mind emptied, drifting free and light now that it was unburdened, and he slumped back into Geralt’s grip. He couldn’t move, his head held fast, every iota of control surrendered.

_His body glowed._

An untraceable sensation that rippled through relaxed muscles; a deep, relentless hum of ecstasy. Geralt growled; Lambert felt the shaft of his cock brush by his ear and heard the wet slide of their tongues as their mouths met again. The rhythm of Eskel’s hips became more erratic as he drew closer, rawing Lambert’s throat, his guttural growls muffled against Geralt’s chest as he savoured him at the same time. His prick hardened and Lambert choked on the surge of come that pulsed from the end of his cock; Geralt fisted Lambert’s hair to keep him still. “Take it all, little wolf.” The white wolf growled, and Lambert gulped desperately, still losing a flood over his lower lip. The excess dripped onto his chest, hanging from dark hair in milky pearls. Eskel would like the view. _He liked marking Lambert and Geralt as his._

Lambert slurped desperately at Eskel’s cock as it withdrew from his mouth, but Geralt held him in place. “Please…” The plea rasped hoarsely from a raw throat, Lambert’s hands shook on the backs of his thighs.

“What do you want, little wolf?” Eskel asked, tone thick and sated.

“I need to come,” Lambert gasped when Geralt tugged his hair again, cock bouncing with excitement. “ _Ahh._ ”

They moved around him. Geralt vanished, the loss would’ve been harrowing if Eskel’s hands hadn’t slipped beneath Lambert’s arms and lifted him. His legs shook; knees weak, head light. Probably because all the fucking blood in his body currently pooled in his cock. Eskel led him by the hand, stumbling like a fawn, towards the foot of the bed; two large hands guided his and settled them on the pert curves of Geralt’s ass. “Yes, yes, please. Want him so bad,” Lambert whined.

“Patience,” Eskel whispered right next to his ear; Lambert could feel the supple flesh of his cock against the tender cleft of his own ass. “Going to open him up for you. Tell you what he feels like.” Strong arms wrapped around his waist, Eskel’s thick forearm brushing over the slick head of his cock, and he heard the pop of a cork. The smell of almond oil bled through the thick musk of Geralt’s desire; Eskel’s fingers squelched into Geralt’s hole. “He’s tight, little wolf. He’s going to feel so good.”

_“Please, please,”_ Lambert whispered it in an endless mantra. He heard Geralt sigh in pleasure as Eskel found the right spot inside him; he’d get louder. Be so loud on Lambert’s cock. Lambert could imagine what he looked like stretched on Eskel’s fingers, hole glistening and puffy, body sucking desperately on each new finger that pushed inside.

“Do you want him?”

“Yes, _please,_ Eskel.” 

“Geralt?”

“Mmm,” Geralt hummed and Lambert heard the creak of the bed. Eskel’s warm palm wrapped around his quivering cock and nudged him forward, guiding him to Geralt’s hole. 

“You’ve been so good for us. We’ll give you what you want. You want this?”

_“Yes, yes, please, Eskel, please, fuck, let me, fucking… ahh.”_ Lambert keened, shaking hands latching instinctively onto Geralt’s narrow hips as he was allowed to thrust inside. Every muscle shook with tension, his body on a hair trigger. 

“Slow,” Eskel growled next to his ear, gentle fingers caressing Lambert’s hole and balls. “Don’t disappoint us now.”

_“Nnngh.”_

It was so fucking hard. Geralt’s body squeezed him so needily; it helped he couldn’t see, but then at the same time it made his entire body hum. He wasn’t even in control of _this;_ Eskel guided his pace, occasionally touching his hips to slow him in time with Geralt’s pleasure. Lambert moved as fluidly as he could through the tremor of his limbs, and Geralt finally began to moan. His body tightened, fluttered, and then Geralt was coming. The blindfold fell away from Lambert’s eyes, knot plucked open with a deft flick of Eskel’s fingers, and the wanton sight yanked Lambert over the cliff edge. Geralt’s arched spine, chest resting on the bed, his round ass speared on Lambert’s cock, the glisten of sweat on his pale skin and heaving shoulders; it was too much.

Lambert cried out in near pain. The orgasm thrashed the air from his chest and made his head swim. It was a staggering, breathless high that felt like it went on forever. Eskel was still there to guide him, helping him navigate the listless headspace that followed…. 

They sank into bed together, warm hands and lips wandering idly over Lambert’s body. Eskel tucked their little wolf’s head beneath his chin and held him close to his broad chest, gathering Geralt in at Lambert’s back so that their mouths could meet again. “You were right,” he whispered.

“You sound surprised,” Geralt rumbled, one white brow arched.

“Hmm,” Eskel smirked and tilted his face down into Lambert’s tousled hair. When he woke, they’d discuss the blindfold, but now Lambert’s entire body glowed with contentment. The talk could wait a little while.


End file.
